Glass Clown
by chermumple of the seven seas
Summary: My first attempt at fanfiction! meet our protagonist, Felix Sinclair, as he escapes from a fashion sweat shop and joins Captain Buggy and his crew! set 20 years before the events of One Piece.


Welcome one, welcome all, to Mirrorball Island! Or, at least, that is what Mayor Shotwell is going to have the name changed too when the Ball goes up. For now, welcome to Salamin Island. To the left you see Dawn Street, home to, well most everyone respectable in town, to the right, there is Kingfisher Road, home to the glass blowers and general market. What about forward? Well, if you go up the winding path through the coniferous forest of Pine Towers, past the glass walls and right up to the top of the hill, there sits Baron Doskoi's manor and his hundred factories.

There sits a 33 room monstrosity composed of 10 bedrooms, 6 living rooms/sitting rooms, 12 bathrooms, a sunroom, 2 offices, a massive dining room, and one kitchen, all fitting with miles, and I mean miles, of room to spare under a half completed glass dome.

Business had picked up on the island since Roger's execution in Loguetown a few years ago, and Doskoi has decided that the town (read his sweatshops, not the actual town at the base of the hill) now that the belief was that there was less fear of pirates, should have a great fucking dome of glass reaching to sky to allow for his labor camps he calls "factories of fashion" to work more efficiently without snow covering 5 feet of the ground for half the year.

The man was a monster, as bloated as his house, and as pompous as he is rich. And, as the tender age of 77 years old, he has had quite a few years amassing riches under the name Doskoi Panda.

Each camp inmate, for that is what they were, slaves bought at auction houses for cheap, worked 13 hours a day, with one break given to them to take at their choosing. And while you might say, "my, they do seem over worked, but at least they are given a break", the break lasts all of 20 minutes, and there is only one viable time they may take it.

Lunch time.

For, why wouldn't you serve lunch at only one time, with one cafeteria, with 20,000 inmates, each hungry and tired. Oh, i don't know, MAYBE SO THERE IS SPACE TO EAT OR A CHANCE TO GET FOOD. Ah, sorry, I'm getting a little angry, but; there is a silver lining to it all. For, while each inmate is given a break, they don't need to take it that day and it is "banked" for the future, and, greatest of all, they can be traded with other inmates.

Because of this, i manage to get lunch every. Single. Day. How? Well, i, resident slave 16,422, formerly known as Felix Sinclair, am extraordinarily average in luck. How is this special? Well, when i say average it is not the normal form of average, where you sit right in the center. Oh no, not at all. For me? Luck rubber bands me so hard from one spectrum to another that i manage to find a devil fruit one day, and the day after, right after eating the fruit, I'm caught by slavers and shipped off to the auction house, then to my current residence, fashion factory 6.

"How" you say, "does this factor into you become the best fed man in the place?" well, it all comes down to my devil fruit. Glass, it seems, is usable in a multitude of situations, such as bribing other camp laborers with deadly sharp weapons and functional tools made of glass, or putting actual windows in the bunk rooms or just, you know, insulating them. Yes, doing this gives me all the breaks i need to get in line for lunch before anyone else. Ah yes, what a delicacy offal and onion stew is.

And before you ask, Doskoi is quite fine not trying to take my fruit; I have done him a great favor, increasing productivity by 6.53% by myself, so he believes that I'm one of his best workers.

Couldn't tell you how to make clothing to save my life. I have always been more of a... simple and grey sort of guy, and the pinks and blues and every colour under the rainbow make me want to sickup.

And that, well, yes, i know that you, and your crew have a colourful ship, and colourful clothing, and colourful personalities, which, honestly, make me want to stab myself with glass, you don't serve offal every day on your ship right? Sounds like a good deal to me.

Oh.

You want me to tell you what I'm useful at? Well, I'm your resident swordsman and war crime causer, as well as a decent abode improver and cutlery fabricator. I could probably work well as a striker for a ship. I'm presuming you don't have one? That is what i thought. Wait, your saying throwing glass in people's eyes is not a crime against humanity? That... that is disturbing.

Although not as much as their eyes afterward.

Oh! I also run the sweatshop gyms! Yes, we have gyms. Yes, they are also made of glass. Yes, I'm the only one who uses them. But look! I'm quite fit and probably stronger than your strongman. You have a strongman right? Oh good, I'm not being assumptive. Well, I mean, I am, but no fault in being wrong, right?

So I'm in?

...

Great!

Happy to work with you, i just have a few things to do before i leave.

What do i need to do?

Well, here is a list:

1\. Unleash my stockpile of knives upon the prisoners and point them to the baron's men.

2\. Enter the castle with a pot of offal and force feed it two the baron.

3\. Give him is "just deserts" (get it? It's a pun? laugh. please.) and give him a good face full of glass fibers. If the prisoners don't kill him, the glass should in a few years.

Aaaand done, done, done.

Ready to join you, Capt'n Buggy. May the rum flow and gold be with you always.


End file.
